


Bloom

by curiouswildflower



Series: Bloom verse [1]
Category: Do No Harm (TV)
Genre: Healing, Let Ruben Marcado Be Happy, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of a Panic Attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 10:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10660641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiouswildflower/pseuds/curiouswildflower
Summary: "Memorials were usually safe, even crowded they elicited a sort of hushed wonder from the people gathered. Memorials, churches, libraries. Ruben had spent a lifetime finding the world’s quiet spaces."





	Bloom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thisstableground](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisstableground/gifts).



> I accidentally filled a prompt I tried to give someone else. So here's Ruben and Spring. (unbetaed)
> 
> Warnings for: mentions of a panic attack
> 
> Story detail: Everyone in this fic is speaking in Spanish.

Ruben is eight, and he snaps at his little sister for scraping her teeth on her fork at dinner. Elena cries and baby Cita cries and Ruben cries and Mama decides it’s time for everyone to go to bed. Ruben apologizes to Elena and goes to his room. He tries to read, tries to find a book to distract him from the guilt buzzing in his head, but soon enough Mama knocks on his door.

“Ruben? Can I come in?” she asks. He opens the door for her, looking down at his feet.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I said sorry to Elena. Am I in trouble?”

“No, _conejito_. Can we sit on your bed?” Ruben nods and shuffles over, sitting on top of his rocket ship comforter. He drags his bunny Margot out from under his pillows and rubs her ears while he waits for Mama to talk.

“What happened at dinner?”

“Elena was making a lot of noise, Mama. Her scraping hurts my ears.” He sees Mama’s hands rest over his on Margot.

“Your brain moves so fast. Your father was the same way. Couldn’t have anything in this house that squeaked or leaked – he said it made his head hurt.”

Ruben doesn’t always like being compared to his father. 

“I just like quiet, Mama.”

He feels her weight shift on the bed as she leans forward. She kisses his forehead and brings one of her hands up to stroke over his hair.

“My beautiful boy. I will always help make the world quiet for you. But we will have to find a way to make the noise hurt less.”

Ruben rocks forward, climbing into Mama’s lap. Margot ends up squished between them. Mama leans against the wall with her arms wrapped around his body and tucks her chin over his head.

“Can we be quiet right now, Mama?” he whispers.

“Yes.” She whispers back. He closes his eyes and breathes.

\--

The mid-March cold of the marble stairs seeps in through Ruben’s jeans where he sits. _Vermont marble_ he remembers from his reading, _the interior walls are Georgia marble. For the expanse of the colonies._ The statue of Thomas Jefferson looms behind him, George Washington’s monument in the distance. _Jefferson’s statue was built during WWII. It was plaster painted bronze at first because they didn’t have the materials to make a real nineteen-foot statue._

Twenty-five years of buzzing in his brain taught Ruben how to fill it so it wouldn’t ring so loud. Information, facts, numbers. Instead of worrying how many people would be at the Jefferson memorial during the Cherry Blossom festival, he spent hours reading anything he could about the memorial, the trees, even Jefferson himself. Memorials were usually safe, even crowded they elicited a sort of hushed wonder from the people gathered. Memorials, churches, libraries. Ruben had spent a lifetime finding the world’s quiet spaces.

 _It’s why I worked so hard for my own lab._ He takes a measured breath at the memory. Most researchers hated the isolation, but for Ruben it meant control. Quiet. _Except Jason._

Jason wasn’t quiet. The only person in the whole hospital that burst into his space. Jason talked quickly, dramatically. Every request was _I need this, Ruben_ or _I’m in danger_ or _I have to do this now._ And every response Ruben gave went back to his numbers. Scans, trials, measurements. Jason insisted his patients needed him. Well, Ruben’s numbers needed him. They needed his noisy brain, his quiet lab.

Ruben cracks his fingers, feeling the bones shift. Hearing his joints pop. _Three thousand cherry trees, as a gift from the mayor of Tokyo in 1912_ his brain supplies. The sunset over Tidal Pond is candy colored. 

Mama settles on the stair next to Ruben. She smells like the perfume she’s worn his whole life. Her shape is a comfort against his side.

“It’s a shame the blossoms aren’t in full bloom yet.” She says.

“The winter storm last week stripped them. Reports say many of the trees died.” Ruben looks at the trees surrounding the basin. Thousands of tiny pink blossoms, petals still curled tight. “Not even a week later and they’re almost in full bloom again.”

Mama hums. “You’re right.”

Ruben looks at her.

“These trees bloomed again.”

She looks at him and smiles. Ruben feels his throat go tight. He always thought words were noisy and confusing, but Mama’s point is clear.

“I miss you every day, Mama.” He whispers. Her face softens and she runs one of her hands through his hair.

“I miss you every day, Ruben.” She says back. “But I can see it. Down on the islands, you are in bloom.”

He rubs the tears off his cheeks and leans his head on her shoulder. They sit quietly, watching the sun set further below the horizon.

“Thank you for planning this trip, _conejito_.” Mama says. “Next time, I will come visit you.”

“It’s quiet.” He says. “You’ll like it.”

\--

When Ruben gets back from D.C. he moves to San Juan. A small quiet apartment in a small quiet neighborhood, nestled next to the city. It’s still noisier than Jamaica was, but there’s a familiarity to this noise. Shouted Spanish, Latin music. Noise he remembers from Mama’s house.

He takes a job delivering flowers for a local florist. He’s given a bike and a map and trusted to bring bright bouquets everywhere in the city. At first the cobblestones under his tires are hard on his back and the tourists make him anxious. He stretches at night and wonders _did any of them recognize me?_ It’s been a couple years, and truthfully in his bathroom mirror Ruben doesn’t always recognize himself. His hair’s grown past his ears, he’s tan from the island sun. He’s vain enough to wonder what kind of muscles he’ll develop spending hours every day biking around a hilly city.

During his second month in town, Ruben takes up drawing. He’s always had to draw models and diagrams for his research, but in his new notebook he starts with flowers. Between drawing flowers and delivering flowers Ruben decides to learn about them, and heads to the library.

The person working the front desk is a young man who is so handsome Ruben almost can’t meet his eyes. Instead Ruben drinks in the details of him. Dark skin, close cropped hair, warm smile. They haven’t even made eye contact and Ruben is blushing.

“Hi, my name is Romeo. What can I help you find?”

“Um. I. Work with flowers? I’d like to know more about them.”

Romeo nods and motions for Ruben to follow him. By the time Ruben leaves the library he has a thick text on horticulture, a book specifically about local flowers, and a book about the myths and symbolism of flowers that Romeo insists he needs as part of his studies. Ruben has a passing thought that he’d probably do anything Romeo insisted, then Jason flashes in his mind and the panic that floods Ruben is so intense he doesn’t come back to himself until he’s sitting in his apartment. The three books are on the kitchen table in front of him, and his panic attack leaves him drained enough that he barely wonders how rudely he treated Romeo while he was panicking.

\--

“My mom is going to visit.”

Ruben runs his fingers over Romeo’s arm where they lay in bed together. Romeo hums in acknowledgement, his eyes roaming over Ruben’s face. It’s a quiet morning in Ruben’s bedroom, one of many they’ve shared in the last couple months.

“I see her every Spring.”

“Is this our Meet the Parents?” Romeo smirks. Ruben shoves his shoulder.

“It doesn’t have to be.” 

Romeo takes Ruben’s hand and kisses him softly on the mouth.

“I’d love to meet your mom.”

Later that morning Ruben calls her.

“Hi Mama.”

“ _Mijo_. How are you?”

“’m good. I’m excited for you to visit.”

He can almost hear her smile. “I’m excited to see you too, _conejito_.”

“I. I have someone I want you to meet.”

“Oh? Someone special?”

Ruben feels his heartrate pick up, but it doesn’t feel like his panic usually does. It’s almost refreshing to feel just… nervous.

“Yes. They work at the library. They’re incredible, Mama.”

“Well then. I can’t wait to meet them. Did you meet at the library?”

“Yeah. This time last year.”

“Springtime. A good time of year for you, _mi flor_.”

 _My blossom._ She’s been calling him that all year, since that night in D.C. He knows Mama finds words just as messy as he does. His given name literally translated means _A son_ , his child nickname _conejito_ means _little bunny_ , for all his energy. She’s not subtle, his Mama, and she won’t let him forget this metaphor for his healing. _Mi flor_.

“Are they beautiful?”

“Yes, Mama. Kind, smart. And very beautiful.”

“ _Guapo?_ ” Mama repeats.

“ _Si_.” His voice is almost a whisper.

“Well. I can’t wait to meet him.”

Ruben doesn’t cry as he walks back to his apartment, but it’s a near thing. He hears Mama’s voice in his head calling him _mi flor_ and that afternoon he draws cherry blossoms in his notebook.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. I love Ruben Marcado and his noisy brain. He deserves his Mama, flowers, and a gentle boyfriend to help him heal from all his trauma.  
> Also I've been to the Cherry Blossom festival two years in a row, and this year I sat exactly where I describe Ruben and his mom sitting - thinking about the blossoms blooming again while the sun set over the Tidal Basin. It's a memory I'm glad to give to Ruben.


End file.
